The thought of touching her again gave him an erection, which was even more encouraging. These days it was extremely difficult to get his body to function properly, and he was far from old. He wasn’t ready to give up that aspect of his life.

She was going to make a big difference, he promised himself. He’d never had a woman like her, and he’d never considered kidnapping one. Accomplished, intelligent females, especially ones who were also beautiful, drew too much attention when they went missing. But Evelyn had so many enemies the authorities wouldn’t know which way to turn.

All of that gave him a distinct advantage when it came to her.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!” Terry cried.

Maybe Terry was right. Maybe he should leave tonight. Even if he disappeared only two days after Evelyn, Minneapolis was so far removed from Alaska it was entirely possible the police would never connect the two events. Especially because he’d been careful not to let anyone see his progress. No one would ever dream he’d be capable of pulling off something like this.

“Yes, I can hear you,” he replied, his mind made up. “Go do the rest of your cleaning. Make sure you stay on that side of the hospital so no one sees us together, and I’ll be gone when you come back. But you don’t want to be the one to report me missing.”

Terry looked as befuddled and stupid as he was. “Why not?”

“Because tomorrow, when they contact you, you’re going to tell them I was here when you left.”

“And you’ll get the cash you owe me and give it to Emmett when you get there as planned, right?”

Greed was so many people’s downfall. “I’ll make sure you get what’s coming to you,” he said. “I’ll make sure you both do.”

8

Anchorage, AK—Wednesday, 10:00 p.m. AKDT

Emmett had tried to ignore what Evelyn Talbot had said. He’d told himself it was none of his business. If he did his job, he’d get paid and whatever happened from there wasn’t on him. And he’d stuck by that for hours. He’d drowned out her cries by listening to music with headphones and working out. Then he’d gone out and checked on the dogs. He’d even filled the van up with gas and gotten a few more groceries. Now he was slumped in front of the television.

But the memory of her voice—You’re working for a man by the name of Lyman Bishop. Do you know who he is? Have you heard that name in the news? He’s a psychopath and a serial killer! You need to go to the police right away!—kept coming back to him.

Finally, unable to push those words out of his brain any longer, he used a search engine to look up the name. Terry hadn’t told him who they were working for. It wasn’t that he’d kept it a secret; he just hadn’t volunteered the information, and Emmett hadn’t asked for it. He preferred less information to more. Keeping things impersonal prevented his conscience from getting too engaged.